


as above, so below

by pahdme



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angel!Sakura, Angels and Demons - Freeform, Demon!Genma, Ex Angel!Kakashi, F/M, Fallen Angel, Loss of Virginity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Religion, Seven Deadly Sins, Slow Burn, Supernatural - Freeform, Temptation, Virginity, Virtues and Sins, rated for later chapters, religious undertones i suppose, yes i'm trying it this time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24506521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pahdme/pseuds/pahdme
Summary: Not that it’s hard, but he could pick out an angel anywhere. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her linen dress, her petal coloured locks and ethereal luminosity. Kakashi sees her for what she is immediately: she burns too bright still, is too fresh from the heavens, too full of divine rage and emotion even looking so abandoned and forlorn crouched on the chapel’s steps.sakura is a divine being that has only ever known beauty and grace and the world and skies at her fingertips — at the rejection of whom she thought was her true love, she commits a cardinal sin and is sentenced to a year on earth. stripped of her powers to walk as a mortal. she is frustrated and terrified and just happens to run into kakashi, who knows her struggle and sees her for what she is immediately. he finds her amusing so he lends her a hand, helps her to her feet and grasp this new point of view, help her see why he loves the humans but will it go so smoothly? a demon, a guardian angel and a fellow archangel act as supporting cast, not realising that they may be more hinderance than help 👀
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Shiranui Genma, Hatake Kakashi & Shiranui Genma, Hatake Kakashi & Yamato | Tenzou, Yamanaka Ino/Yamato | Tenzou, but background - Relationship, endgame for sakura still to be determined
Comments: 19
Kudos: 59





	as above, so below

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i'm not religious _whatsoever_. i'm not baptised, never attended church and only really know of religion through art work and its general presence in media etc., so this AU is incorrect in probably many ways.
> 
> but it's mine so i get to decide lol
> 
> hence why i never thought i'd ever start a chapter with a psalm but here we are lmao. inspiration struck me and it finally got me through my writer's block so i hope you enjoy and i will update my other fics soon!! <3
> 
> _special thanks to the lovely wives of the icha icha discord for hyping me up, giving lovely feedback and generally helping me develop this story <3_

_Let your Kingdom come._

_Let your will be done, as_

_in heaven, so on earth._

_— Matthew 6:10_

* * *

Rage in its most infernal form floods her vision; white and hot and blinding as her halo. The only thing Sakura feels beyond the all-encompassing fury, cursing through her limbs like acid, is the crack of Sasuke’s delicate cheek bone as her knuckles meet and crush it.

_You, as my lover? What are you, **insane**?_

His words ring in her ears like a curse, the sound of his laughter cutting to her core like blade through flesh. Muffled and dull Sakura hears shrieks erupt around her, but it is not enough. Not to startle her nor to halt her in her sin. Like a loaded gun the archangel cocks her elbow back once more and swings her fist anew. She repeats the motion like prayer. By the time the Virtues and Dominions tear her off the other angel’s chest, Sasuke is drenched with ichor. His laughter has not seized throughout her battery, only spurring her ferocity on with its taunt like a man gone mad. The golden blood bubbles thickly from his broken skull and stains his teeth as it sinks into the gaps and his gums. He is a horrifying sight like this, beyond the delicate and divine, clearly manic with hubris; yet Sakura can only stare numbly as she is dragged to court with her knuckles split and raw. _How could he reject her so cruelly? Where was his celestial compassion?_

A grave dark voice roars from across her, _“Where was **yours**?”_

Her chin tilts upward and she is struck with the eyes of the sun. Her Godaime Seraphim towers over her form and Sakura’s knees buckle underneath the look of judgement and execution.

The archangel broke the divine law ruling all — she strayed from her nature and indulged in a cardinal sin; she became slave to her wrath.

A tremble shakes her suddenly frail body when the thundering voice of her Seraphim sounds again. Sakura pants for breath, her chest constricting in shock as she listens to her sentence being pronounced with mournful scorn:

_A mortal year on earth, stripped of her powers and wings, to wander as human and understand that sin is reserved for mortals, not celestials. She is to be most virtuous; if she commits a cardinal sin again her eternity in heaven is forfeited. Sakura will be doomed, condemned to life in limbo._

Her Seraphim’s fingers curl around her halo and Sakura sobs in honest grief when Tsunade yanks it from upon her crown. The flat of her superior’s palm is light on her back, near motherly in its touch, but the shove between her shoulder blades — _between her wings_ — is not. Desperately the archangel flaps her stiffened wings and grasps for hold around her, but she finds no purchase — no hand to clutch, no arm to cling to as all her peers recoil from her reach. Sakura topples over the edge with a gasp and lightning strikes the earth when her delicate frame crashes through the stratosphere. Feather by feather her wings tear away as she plummets to the mortal plain in her impious fall.

* * *

Depending on where one is in that exact moment, Sakura is little more than a shooting star to the human eye. Maybe a thunderstorm or just the gush of wind in the crown of the oak tree she ends up tangled in. Breathless and panicked she struggles against the knotted branches as they catch and grab at the linen dress she was clothed in before the push.

Unseeing, unhearing, she twists and wriggles frantically, scraping her elbows and getting poked painfully between the ribs until suddenly the tree decides, her mortal weight is too much to bear. The first thing she hears on earth is a crack when the net of bark and wood gives way. Once more, Sakura falls. This descent is far shorter lived than her first however and when her back hits the grass she has all remaining celestial breath knocked from her lungs. The angel gasps and with the first rush of air she inhales the pain. In flesh as in spirit. Dull and throbbing in her chest against the choking sting of tears in her eyes.

* * *

The small mismatched office kitchen of the funeral home is flooded with light when a flash of lightning drives itself into the soil. As soon as it started, it is over again and the pouring rain subsides in a matter of minutes. Strange to the citizens, but the guardian angel cradling his cup of oolong isn’t fazed as he gazes out the window. The park across the road is vacant due to the rain, but he catches the crackle of branches and ruffling of the heavy oak crown anyway.

Kakashi smiles over his coffee cup as he follows his friend’s gaze.

“Is she here?”

Yamato nods, “She is. Just as the Seraphim announced.”

Before Kakashi can respond again a heavy air settles around them and no heartbeat later the door is ripped wide open.

A gush of air smelling vaguely of brimstone and ash accompanies Genma as he bursts through the open frame. Yamato wrinkles his nose involuntarily at the scent and scowls at the demon’s obvious excitement. His brown eyes gleam with dark elation and his voice comes breathless, “Was that what I think it was?”

Kakashi rolls his eyes and Yamato pinches the bridge of his nose glumly.

* * *

The earth is damp from the previous shock of rain and Sakura scowls at how the grass and dirt cling to her bare soles. She’s never felt soil underneath them and in this muddy form she can’t say that she cares for it at all.

Her examination of the ground is swiftly interrupted when a loud honk sounds like a siren. A car horn — not that she knows what that is. The archangel can only say that it is offensive to her ears. As if it was a catalyst suddenly the quiet enveloping her is gone and all the noise of the city sounds around her. As if she had been blind previously she sees them too, the humans with their loud mouths, screaming into small devices at their ears, talking to each other at ungodly volumes and that is the least of evil compared to all the cacophony roaring to her from the road and shops along it.

The sanctity of the little park she landed in broke like crystal and Sakura shivers in shock. It is all around her, nowhere to hide, nowhere to flee. Her eyes flit all around her as she twists in circles on her axis once, twice, three times until she is dizzy and nauseous. Like a child she presses her palms to her ears and squeezes her eyes shut tight as she crouches down, low to the ground, on the spot she landed.

It is a pitiful sight and Sakura is soon approached by an elderly woman. The touch to her shoulder startles her though and she gasps. The soft _‘are you alright, dear?’_ booms in Sakura’s ears like thunder and she scrambles away like a feral animal. Once she is set in motion she does not stop and Sakura almost runs, but every way she turns there is only more noise, more people and the asphalt of the sidewalk bites her feet.

Her breath comes laboured and her lungs burn, she is not used to physical exertion and the pain is strange to her when she supports herself with her hands on her knees. Blearily her gaze drifts as she examines the stinging ache in her ribs and Sakura almost sobs when she sees a familiar symbol not far from her at all.

The stained glass windows call to her like the lord itself but it is the cross perched on the roof’s gable that signifies it as her sanctuary. She does not look left nor right as she breaks into a sprint across the street; brakes screech and she flinches from the awful horns and swears thrown her way but Sakura doesn’t stop in her mad dash. Instead she clings to the hope awaiting her beyond the wooden double doors.

Within the chapel Sakura is bathed in magenta, cornflower blue and saffron light as the morning sun breaks through the windows depicting the madonna and her child. Still she runs between the pews and her knees give when she reaches the altar. The archangel crashes down onto the ground and her hands clasp in prayer as sobs break free from her throat. Her chest still heaves with her panting breath and all her grief and regret weigh on her shoulders as she bows.

Despair colors her broken voice as she pleads and begs with the heavens, the father and every saint and celestial known to her. This place of worship may feel the closest to home but it is still too far a cry from it to be of comfort.

Only when the skies grow dark outside do her tears run dry.

* * *

“No, you don’t understand, I need to return to the heavens! I’m not meant for the earth,” she begs, and the pastor’s brows knit in confusion. Sakura’s face is flush with hysteria and in her frenzy she digs her fingers into the pastor’s robes as she near shrieks, “I’m an angel, an archangel!”

Against her expectations of grace, Sakura watches horrified how the old man’s jaw sets and all kindness flees his eyes as they grow hard. The same cold she felt at Sasuke’s rejection overcomes her now at the sudden change in demeanor and her panic spreads through her limbs like the rage did before. The pastor has made up his mind: No matter how small his chapel may be, there is no space for blasphemous delusions of grandeur of her kind.

Rigidly he untangles her hands and steers her by the shoulders to the open double doors leading out to her misfortune; the darkness of the streets outside looms to her like a monster’s mouth. He speaks again and his voice comes strained, “Child, you must leave. God is everywhere and we will open tomorrow again, but until then go home.”

On bare feet she tries to dig in her heels, baring her teeth as her frustration bursts forth through the surface. “My home is the heavens,” she hisses, and the pastor becomes more forceful in his shove. “I need to stay, I’m telling you, I cannot be out there with all those heathens!”

The old man huffs in exasperation as he finally forces her past the threshold. She stumbles down the first step and he looks down at her in pity. It stings. If Sakura felt abandoned by her kind before, now the moment has come that she feels truly ostracized.

“Practice compassion and acceptance. I’m looking forward to your return when you have learned to be humble.” The words strike her like a slap across the cheek. She is an angel — compassion is her _purpose_!

The door slams shut and the click of the lock booms in her ears like the thunder that accompanied her descent. Sakura is left defeated, to stare at the closed gate with her jaw slack as her shoulders. How is she meant to endure an entire year of this? She is dozens of centuries old, but time has never run so slow for her as it does now.

* * *

Ridiculed by her fate once more, Sakura sighs deep as she turns to the vast dark street behind her. As far as the eye can see there is nothing but foreign territories and the dread is beginning to drain her. Overall, this emotional up and down is beginning to drag on her; this human body is far less endurable than her angel body too. If she weren’t so tired, she’d be frustrated.

It’s almost protocol; Kakashi knows he’ll stumble upon her one way or another somewhere between here and then. Somewhere between heaven and hell.

It does not take long, the branches of the willow leading to the graveyard beside the chapel brush his wrist like a sign post pointing her way.

Not that it’s hard, but he could pick out an angel anywhere. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her linen dress, her petal coloured locks and ethereal luminosity. Kakashi sees her for what she is immediately: she burns too bright still, is too fresh from the heavens, too full of divine rage and emotion even looking so abandoned and forlorn crouched on the chapel’s steps.

He approaches her and Sakura stiffens at once but Kakashi smiles.

“Hello, angel,” he grins and Sakura stares as her green eyes grow to the size of the moon. In this instance her ignorance is blessing over curse; she has no idea that it could have been a sleazy pick up line but takes him at face value. He knows! He sees her for what she is!

Until a thought strikes her — humans cannot tell celestials apart from their own, how would he know? Suspicion hums like a basket of bees in her ribcage.

“Hello,” she responds tentatively and scans his face with scrutiny. Her instincts itch and she braces herself on the steps, ready to flee. Not that she knows from what exactly, but as evidenced by the pastor, even god's mortal pawns cannot be trusted. 

“Do not be afraid,” he says and Sakura’s breath hitches at the reiteration of the first words from angel to mankind. She obeys his words like gospel as the fear slips off her spine like water off a leaf. It eases a knot in her stomach she did not realise was there as she can’t help but feel assured that he _knows_ her struggle.

Is this divine intervention? A last hand of helping the way she spied the chapel? She wants to think so but the chapel turned out to be a ruse too.

“I’m Kakashi. I’m one of your own,” the silver haired man introduces himself and Sakura scowls. It amuses him nearly, watching her test out her judgement after only ever knowing honesty and truth. She cannot know that he was in her place a long, long time ago.

“But you are not an angel,” she blurts out then and nearly sniffs at him in contempt. Kakashi laughs as her eyes narrow and her gaze becomes piercing in her examination.

He seems ordinary enough aside from his argent shock of hair and perhaps the scar lining his face. Sakura would not look his way twice weren’t it for those, the same way all the mortals that passed her today seemed faceless and grey. At first glance he is human to her.

But as she concentrates, she is challenged in this belief. There’s _something_ about him and as she strains, she thinks she can catch it. There’s a brightness about him; she wants to capture it with her gaze yet comes up empty each time. His divinity slips from her grasp, only appears in the corner of her eye. It is still there; it cannot ever be drained from his spirit entirely and Sakura realises then what he is.

She’s heard of his kind — only in stories told to fledglings, to scare them into abiding by the laws, but she’s heard of him nonentheless.

“Not anymore,” she hushes and his grin should not comfort her in the way it does.

* * *

“Is he––” Sakura stops dead in her tracks in the opened doorway as her large green eyes fix on the man in the apartment, casually leaning in the doorframe to the living room.

“A demon?” Genma supplies with an easy grin around the toothpick caught between his teeth, twirling in the corner of his mouth. “Yes indeed, angel. At your service night and day, for all your sinful needs.”

Each word of his grates on her being even if his voice is smooth. Sakura is practically shell shocked by his brashness and recoils in horror from the dark look in his eyes. On instinct alone she stumbles backward, scrambling to flee, back into the safety of the hall as her shoulders creep up to her ears and she stiffly twists her head around to Kakashi.

“You live with a _demon_?” Her voice comes strained between her shuddery, choppy breaths as her throat begins to tighten around her panic once more that day. If the Seraphim finds out about this, she will be doomed. Chained until the last dawn to this earthly plain and thusly damning her to this eternal chastening. It strikes the fear of god into her. With a hiss she digs her nails into Kakashi’s forearm, “I’ve fought and slain the likes of him on the outskirts of Tartarus, and you _live_ with him?”

“‘Live with’ is a strong way to put it,” Kakashi shrugs, either oblivious or uncaring of her open terror as he scowls at the demon in question, leisurely strolling toward the front door of the apartment. Sakura takes a step back each time Genma takes one forward, until her back hits the wall of the hall. Turning fully toward the brunette, Kakashi now cocks a brow. “I mean you don't even pay rent.”

“ _Rent_?” Sakura frowns, the word so foreign to her she latches onto it like a lifeline. If Kakashi isn't going to acknowledge her obvious apprehensions, she must find a way to push them aside herself. Or smother them long enough to endure this at least; so, she tells herself to not think about how tight her chest feels suddenly.

“A monthly fee to live in this apartment,” the demon explains to her dismay, before he leans into the doorway once more and crosses his arms over his chest. A silver choker and a necklace blink in the dim fluorescent lights at his neck like the sun shines down on them. “And I don’t pay rent because I don’t actually live here most of the time. Until now that is.”

As he addresses Kakashi, Genma is gracious enough to avert his gaze from Sakura and gives her room to breathe and collect herself. As expected for a lowlife of his kind however, his idea of mercy is short lived, and Sakura holds her breath when he pauses in his speech. Too soon she can feel his dark eyes roam her form again, from her bare feet over the chaste white linen dress, now soiled from the city grime, up to her still scowling face. His attention makes her nauseous.

Akin to his eyes, his grin is dark and tickles her fight or flight instinct. “If you live here, sweet angel, I might even consider paying rent.”

In accidental chivalry, Kakashi swoops in to her rescue as he lets out a scoff. “If you spend more than two days a week here, you _are_ paying rent. No discussion. If Yamato can do it, you can too,” he sneers, and Sakura feels faint.

_Another demon?_

“ _Yamato_?” She inquires feebly and her savior finally seems to take pity on her as he puts a soothing hand on her shoulder. The weight of his palm feels both crushing and grounding to her and the angel finds that she is exhausted. _Is this how humans feel all the time?_

“Yamato _actually_ lives with me. He’s a guardian angel, you’ll like him,” he says, and his smile is reassuring. Or at least the closest thing to it, as Sakura is sure that in her current state nothing could truly reassure her. Not even the presence of a fellow angel. It is not home; it is not heaven. The thought alone causes a sudden spike of a feeling she has never known but can identify at once: _homesickness_ and _hopelessness_. For the first time in her life, Sakura has the urge to weep.

Kakashi truly thought his words would soothe her, but as he sees the tears well up fast in her big peridot eyes, he is not so sure anymore. Even Genma’s face is marred with concern.

“Is she crying?” The demon whispers cautiously and Kakashi is almost surprised at the unexpected delicacy of his tone. Weren’t he convinced that Genma is making the situation ten times worse, he’d let him stay for that alone. But Sakura confirms his hunch as she bites back a pathetic sob and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Genma, get the hell—” Sakura chokes on a startled gasp at his choice of words again and Kakashi grimaces in regret as he makes a shooing gesture toward the demon. “Get out please, you’re just upsetting her more.”

Oddly understanding the brunette nods, though his brown eyes stay locked on the fragile frame of the angel sinking into herself slowly against the dirty drywall.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he declares, and Kakashi wants to amend that at work would be best, but the demon vanishes in a veil of smoke and ash before he can get a word in edgewise.

Sighing deeply, he turns to what is left of Sakura: A meagre heap of linen, sanctity and grief sat on the floor of the grubby hall.

“Want to go inside?” He offers with a mild smile that crinkles his eyes at the corner. Sakura lifts her heavy chin and Kakashi can’t help but feel crushed at her sight. The weight of the world seems to rest on her drooping shoulders and as she looks up at him, he is met with all of humanity’s anguish in her viridian eyes.

Her mouth opens and closes once, twice, three times – just until her bottom lip doesn’t quiver anymore and Kakashi extends his hand to her. With a shaky sigh she pulls herself up on it and stills, steadying her breath to speak at last, “I think— I think, I want to sleep?”

Kakashi smiles, touched by her confusion. It’s only natural, she cannot place this bleariness overwhelming her body and spirit. After all, she’s never needed to sleep before; _how would she know?_

* * *

Dutifully her host prepares her bed for her. A place of rest, for refreshment each night, he says. With fresh white linens, crisp and inviting as winter’s first snow. Sakura cannot see this though; her view is clouded with grief and when she looks upon her bed made from the couch-turned-futon all she sees is her last resting place. For tonight — perhaps until the end of time. Her eyes well up again. It is like staring into her open coffin.

Determined to stay strong, to not break on this first obstacles like waves on the shore, she swallows the clump in her throat and forces herself to smile. It’s watery and fragile but her intention is pure and Kakashi feels the pull again on his heartstrings. The first days are the worst; she’s going through withdrawal and he cannot fault her for it.

When she takes a wobbly step toward her bed, he shakes his head and softly catches her small hand in his.

“Come,” he smiles gently. “We still have to honor tradition and rite.”

Just then, Sakura thinks, as she locks her seagrass green eyes with his charcoal ones, she can see how old he truly is. Exactly how many lifetimes and millennia he’s witnessed, and it humbles her. Even if he may be powerless, stripped by the Seraphims of his time, the potential of his spirit still dwarfs her in comparison. Her situation may be bleak, but she can recognize her blessings to have fallen at his feet of all people.

Gentle as if she was easily spooked deer, he takes her by the hand and his pulse runs warm against her skin. She’s felt cold so often today, she doesn’t dare assume comfort in his touch.

In the hall she spies four doors. One she knows. It leads to the other side of the kitchen, which is connected to the den and apparently her bedroom, through an open archway. It’s green and she had spied it from the corner of her eye when she inspected the living area briefly. The other two, closer to the front door, she assumes to lead to bedrooms — one belonging to Kakashi and the other to the guardian angel he mentioned earlier. If he lives here like that. Kakashi had said he ‘pays rent’ but maybe Yamato only lives here momentarily, like Genma.

Kakashi leads her to neither of the two. He takes a turn down past the kitchen and slips her hand from his right to his left as he makes space for her to follow. The blue door at the end — _why are they all so colorful?_ — stands ajar and Sakura can spy a sink. _The bathroom._

Not unlike the rest of the small city apartment, the bathroom is cramped and tight, they have to squeeze close to each other to get in the position Kakashi has in mind. At least there is a bathtub; it is old like the rest of the piping, but the edge is rounded, and he sits Sakura down on it. She lets him; willing to be led like a child. If there is one thing she can currently use, it is guidance.

Not unlike in prayer Kakashi slips into a kneeling position before her, his eyes are level with her waist but chastely, as is appropriate, he keeps them downcast to his hands. Even tired and heavy lidded, Sakura is watchful, and he can feel her gaze follow each of his movements as he pulls a basin wide enough to fit her feet comfortably beneath the sputtering faucet. Kakashi makes sure the water is warm, just on the edge of hot before he pours the salts and oils in and swirls. She needs no instruction to what comes next as he lifts the basin over the curve of the tub, and trusting, the way only an innocent can be, she holds onto his shoulders as she raises her filthy feet. The city left its mark with grime and soot, and where her delicate skin has been bitten and cut, the water stings.

She hisses at the pain and digs her fingers into his shoulder, but Kakashi smiles apologetically even if her grip is harsh, "Sorry. Is it too hot?"

Sakura shakes her head as she relaxes, slowly letting go of his shoulder as she moves her grip to the edge of the tub. “No, it’s just right.” After a pause her brows draw together as she eyes the sponge in his hand resting on his thigh. “Are you going to wash my feet for me?”

He nods and dips the sponge, wringing it to saturate.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around? To humble me further?” Her tone is cautious and Kakashi again can only smile mildly as he shakes his head.

“You've been humbled enough for one day in my opinion,” he responds gently as he draws the sponge over the curve of her ankle. The ex-angel can hear the hitch of her breath and knows even without the gift of divination that she wants to protest. “On this plain and on this day, _I_ am the judge of that, Sakura.”

Kakashi stills in his action when she doesn’t answer and raises his gaze along her body upward to meet her eye and confirm her understanding. Sakura sees that flicker again, that ancient look and it is her that casts her eyes downward now. Humility is a virtue and she is sentenced to be good.

Diligently he sets to scrub. Not harshly but thorough and Sakura allows herself to even close her eyes at one point, giggling tiredly as he drags his fingertips along her soles.

The sigh following it is deep though and Kakashi listens again when she whispers, “My whole body aches. I feel like solid lead.”

He knows the feeling she speaks of; he remembers it well. His pressure increases as he presses his thumbs into her arch, ignoring the small whine it draws from her chest. His breath is almost labored, but he chuckles, “A human heart is a heavy burden.”

“Is it?” she asks and cuts herself off with a yawn. “I’m so… _exhausted_. Do the humans feel like this a lot?”

Her question is hard to answer, Kakashi finds, so he chooses to ignore it. Instead he shrugs and hums, working his way in his massage past her ankle and up her calf, “Celestials burn bright in their emotion, but it’s short lived. Humans, on the other hand, are consumed with theirs.”

Sakura sighs when he finds a particularly hard knot, close to the back of her knee, his breath comes harder and she thinks she can feel it on her shins when he speaks, “Where angels flare, mortals burn out.”

“How bleak,” she sighs and Kakashi is unprepared for the look of heartbreak in her eyes when he looks up. It startles him and he doesn't quite know what to do about it. So, he proceeds in his ritual; he towels her dry and points out a fresh gown hanging from the back of the bathroom door. “Get changed, Sakura. You need to rest. You need to sleep.”

She nods.

_You have a long year ahead of you_.

* * *

_Our Father in heaven,_

_Reveal who you are._

_Set the world right;_

_Do what’s best – **as above, so below**._

**Author's Note:**

> leave me your thoughts! i'm happy about anything, every comment (even a single emoji) helps me tremendously and makes me feel seen and appreciated <3
> 
> ty for reading!


End file.
